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“Nice save, Robby. You too, Trinity.”
Her brain goes blank at the words, heart pounding in her ears. She glances up at Yolanda, who’s dipping her head slightly like she’s trying to meet Trinity’s eyes, almost searching them for something. It’s too much after what she said earlier, and Trinity has to look away before she falls back into the trap of Yolanda's warm brown eyes that suck you in like a whirlpool. She looks back down at what she was doing, forcing herself to focus instead of replaying the words over and over again. You too, Trinity. Not Santos or Dr Santos, Trinity. The way Yolanda says it in bed right as she’s about to come, the way she says a soft goodnight, Trinity as she lets herself out of Trinity’s apartment.
She hears Yolanda leave, listens to the quiet pad of her shoes fade away. What was she trying to do, get Trinity to forget what a bitch she’d been to her this entire day just so she could get laid? She knew, deep down, that this wasn't healthy, that Yolanda just wanted her for her body and nothing else. But it was nice, really, to be wanted for something, even if it was just sex. And Yolanda could be as caring as she was cruel, could make Trinity fall apart with a gentle touch and sweet whispers in her ear just as quickly as she could tear her to shreds with a few words and a scathing glare.
There was no alternative, unless that included the nightmare of telling Yolanda she liked her in a not-casual way, and that would never happen, even if you held her at gunpoint. Hell, she’d told Huckleberry to fuck off when he’d tried getting her to admit that she liked having him around - and she did, but that didn’t matter - because vulnerability scared the shit out of her, so the idea of telling Yolanda, of all people, how she felt was laughable, really.
……
She’s nearly at her car when a voice calls her name, faint over the sound of fireworks and cars honking. She keeps going but the voice calls her name louder, the sound of footsteps resounding on the concrete like they’re running to catch up with her. She stops and turns, ready to cuss out whoever’s preventing her from getting home in the middle of the fucking night but realizes it’s Yolanda, bent over a few feet away trying to catch her breath.
“Dr. Garcia,” Trinity says, voice tight and clipped, professional just like Yolanda had wanted. “Did you need something?”
“Trinity,” Yolanda sighs her name out disapprovingly, head tilted in a silent be so for real right now like she does when a med student fucks up. “Can we talk?”
“I think we’ve done enough of that already.”
“Please?” Yolanda’s tone is on the verge of pleading, something Trinity’s never heard from her before. It’s strange and disconcerting, coming from someone who’s been nothing but cold and distant recently. She steps closer slowly, both hands held up in surrender until she’s just a foot away from Trinity.
“Five minutes,” Trinity says firmly, crossing her arms. “It’s the middle of the fucking night and I want to get home.”
“Okay, yeah,” Yolanda says quickly. “Uh, I heard what you said earlier.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“When you were talking to Whitaker. You said I didn’t like you and just liked getting laid. I believe ‘stress relief squeeze toy’ were your exact words?” She smirks halfheartedly to mask the hurt rising up again, nowhere near the amount she’d felt hearing the words come from Trinity’s mouth hours ago. She knew she’d been sharp and cutting with her words today, had been distant for weeks to hurt Trinity the way she’s been hurting, had rainchecked then cancelled to get back at her. But all she feels now is empty regret that she’d pushed it this far and had made Trinity think the worst, had been doing whatever this pointless push-and-pull was instead of doing something about it. She knew that at 35 she was too old to be playing games, but some part of her had wanted to be petty, had wanted to give Trinity a taste of her own medicine.
She watches Trinity's face carefully, watches as her already pale skin pales further and a combination of anger and shame flashes through her eyes. She watches Trinity’s mouth drop open as if to defend herself, watches it close again while she hunts for words that don’t exist.
“Why would you think that?” Yolanda’s tone is soft, gentle, hurt threaded through it. She searches Trinity’s eyes carefully, looking for some kind of answer.
“Wasn’t wrong, was I?” Trinity says eventually, looking somewhere over Yolanda’s shoulder and avoiding her eyes, almost like she’s scared to see visual confirmation to her question.
“You were. You are.” Trinity simply raises an eyebrow, face carefully blank as if waiting for Yolanda to continue. She groans, head tipping back for a second before she looks at Trinity again. “I - fuck. Trinity, what gave you the impression this was just sex? I asked you out on your first day, and up until a month ago I kept trying to make plans that didn’t involve either of our beds. Would I do that if I didn’t fucking like you?” Yolanda’s tone is angry now, all the gentleness from before gone in an instant.
Trinity simply shrugs in response, making Yolanda’s temper flame. She’s always been able to control it, but there’s something about Trinity’s complete refusal to even engage with her that makes it fire up. “Fucking answer me,” she snaps, reaching out a hand to grip Trinity’s jaw and force eye contact.
“No,” Trinity mumbles eventually, and Yolanda nods firmly, letting go of her face.
“You kept shooting me down, kept pushing me away and leaving in the middle of the night, and I let it happen because I thought maybe you just needed time. And yeah, we never explicitly agreed to be casual, but you made your feelings very clear.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you’ve been such a bitch lately,” Trinity counters, her eyes locked on Yolanda’s expectantly.
Yolanda closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before she opens them. Her eyes are hard, furious. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t call me that,” she hisses, jaw clenched. “And what, you’re not even going to try denying your part in this mess? Just going to keep accusing me?”
“I didn’t know!” Trinity snaps, eyes flashing with anger. “I thought you were just pretending to care to get in my pants.”
Yolanda barks out a laugh, something between shock and hurt. “You really think I'm that kind of person? Fucking hell, Trinity. I've cared this entire time, but eventually I got tired of trying and just wanted to hurt you back. It was cruel and I knew it but I…” she hesitates. “I wanted you to feel how I've felt this entire time.”
“Okay. Your guilty conscience isn’t my problem, though.”
Yolanda groans, the harsh sound carrying through the parking lot. “What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry, Trinity. I'm sorry that I wasn’t clear enough about everything, because I do like you. You’re not just sex to me, and I'm sorry I made you feel otherwise.”
Trinity nods, uncrossing her arms with a sigh. “What am I, then? If I'm not just sex?”
Yolanda stares at her, half confused and half incredulous. She squints slightly, trying to figure out if Trinity’s being serious. “Trinity, you…” she trails off, laughing slightly in shock. “I like cuddling on the couch and watching movies with you. I like hanging out with you and farm boy even if you two never stop bickering. Hell, I just like being around you.”
“So what…” Trinity shakes her head slightly, hands clenched into fists at her sides. She looks up at Yolanda, something like fear in her eyes as she blinks furiously. “You know what? Fuck you, Yolanda.”
“No, you don’t get to run from this.”
“Fuck you,” Trinity repeats. It lacks the heat this time, her voice quieter and shakier.
“Fine, then. Why would you think I was pretending to care?”
“Because I didn’t think anyone could ever actually like me!” Trinity bursts out. “Because I'm a fucking mess and I'm too much for most people and you’re -” she cuts off, a low hiss of frustration escaping her. “You’re you. You’re incredibly hot and have your shit together and I'm just… me. Damaged.” Yolanda hums in response, eyes locked on Trinity’s and head tilted to study her closely.
“You shouldn’t want me, okay?” Trinity continues, waiting for Yolanda to give up and walk away, decide she isn’t worth it after all. “I’ll just fuck it all up.”
“Okay.”
“What -” Trinity gapes at her, brows furrowed.
“It’s almost like you’re trying to chase me away,” Yolanda says gently. “What, you think I’m not a mess? I have my own issues with relationships. I’m a control freak surgeon, for god’s sake. But I want this with you.” She can see how Trinity hesitates, presses her fingers into her thighs the way she does when she’s trying to ground herself, jaw clenched tightly. Yolanda steps forward, slowly reaching out to place her hands on Trinity’s shoulders and press down, feeling them relax the tiniest bit under her hands. “Hey,” she says quietly, making Trinity’s eyes jump up to meet hers. “I like you as you are. I’m not leaving just because you have baggage,” she laughs softly. “That would be incredibly hypocritical of me to do.”
Trinity shakes her head, something unplaceable in her eyes, closer to fear than hesitation. But she’s not wearing her usual about-to-run expression; this one is more open, less guarded. “I know, I just - ” she sighs, letting her head tip forward. “I’m scared, Yoyo. You see right past my bullshit and it’s terrifying and I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to stay.”
Yolanda’s heart stops briefly at the nickname. Yoyo. She’d forgotten what it sounded like coming from Trinity, hasn’t heard it in weeks since this entire mess started. “I know, cariño,” she murmurs, the pet name slipping out as a force of habit. She holds her breath, knowing Trinity will bristle at it being used outside of bed, forging ahead when her face only softens the slightest bit. “I’m scared too. But I want to try.” She watches as Trinity’s face shifts, conviction flashing in her eyes as she takes two steps and closes the distance between them.
“Yeah, okay. I…I’m sorry, by the way. For pushing you away and being so stubborn.”
Yolanda smiles, small and barely there but soft, her eyes fond. “Thank you,” she murmurs, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Trinity’s ear, letting her fingertips linger on her cheekbone. “I’m sorry too, for being so hot and cold today.”
“You called me by my name,” Trinity says incredulously, a laugh in her voice. “In front of Robby, too. What were you thinking?”
Yolanda laughs too, shaking her head at the memory. “You just looked so hot, doing that procedure for the first time and nailing it.”
Trinity shrugs, a smile spreading across her face. “Can’t argue with that. So, what now?”
Yolanda slides her hand lower to fully cup Trinity’s cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yeah,” Trinity breathes out. “Yeah, you can.” she leans up on tiptoes to meet Yolanda halfway, sliding a hand around to the back of her neck as their lips meet. They start off soft, lips barely brushing before Yolanda slides her free hand into Trinity’s hair, pulling her closer and pressing their lips together more firmly. The tip of Yolanda’s tongue traces Trinity’s lips, tugging at her hair lightly to make her gasp slightly and slipping her tongue into Trinity’s mouth.
Eventually, Trinity pulls back, resting her forehead against Yolanda’s and grinning at her. “Take me home?”